


Unforgotten

by Born_with_wings



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Consent Issues, Crying, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Kink Meme, Kissing, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9310076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Born_with_wings/pseuds/Born_with_wings
Summary: Written for this prompt on the tfa kink meme: http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/4613.html?thread=10982149#cmt10982149Poe is captured by the First Order again, only this time Kylo Ren has leverage - he can see the images of the traitor stormtrooper in Poe's mind, including very tender memories of their first kiss, first time making love, Finn's first time flying, Finn waking up from his coma, etc.This time Kylo is going to take these memories from him one by one, enjoying Poe writhing under his hands as they are stripped away, enjoying Poe tearfully begging Kylo to stop. Works better than torture.+++if Poe tries to hide what they've done from a Finn be doesn't quite remember fully after he is rescued/Kylo returns him.





	1. Chapter 1

Their first kiss happens almost by accident. Both drunk and happy and breathless. Poe slings an arm over Finn’s shoulders and the younger man tucks his head, laughing, and suddenly their faces are so close, their mouths almost touching. This close Poe can see Finn’s pupils dilating, spiralling wide until his irises are thin slivers, until Finn’s already dark eyes look pitch black. The stormtrooper’s gaze is flickering over Poe’s face: his eyes, his lips, a loose thread of hair curling over his forehead. Poe thinks, _we’re going to kiss_ and then he thinks, _he’s not going to kiss me_ and his heart throbs at the base of his throat so strongly that he’s not even sure he’s breathing. Finn bites his lip.

Poe doesn’t see Finn kiss him. He closes his eyes. But he feels his lips, full and warm and soft, fluttering against his own and the sweet puff of his breath and the smooth skin of his cheek. For a long moment they are both frozen beneath the kiss before Poe tilts his head to press his mouth more firmly to Finn’s. Finn hums and they can both feel the curve of his lips as he smiles. Poe’s smiling too. He pulls back to look at the younger man - only it's his own face he sees staring back at him.

It’s always disconcerting, going so suddenly from looking through someone’s eyes to looking into them.

One of Poe’s eyes is ringed with purple, the white of it so bloodshot it looks red. Another bruise is blooming on his jaw and his lip is split wide, leaking crimson blood down his chin. He’s shaking but Kylo doesn’t think it’s from the pain.

“I didn’t take you for the voyeuristic type - sick bastard,” he says and spits, grinning macabrely through the blood. Kylo refuses to rise to the taunt.

“Such pleasant memories,” he whispers instead and ghosts a leather-clad hand through the pilot’s dark curls. Matted blood catches on his fingers and Poe flinches, tries to duck away from Kylo’s hand. “What is the attraction,” his fist tightens convulsively and the pilot lets out a stunted cry of pain, “in a filthy traitor like him?”

Poe lunges against the restraints. Spit shines on his lips as he snarls, “he’s a better man than you will ever be,” and Kylo steps back to avoid the snap of his teeth.

“A touchy subject, hmm?” Kylo raises his hand again although this time he doesn’t touch the pilot. Poe’s eyes are wide and shining, as if only now realising his mistake, and then Kylo is no longer looking into them.

There’s hot skin beneath his lips. Salt on his tongue. Poe trails a hand across rigid muscles, which tremble beneath his touch and his hand slides further, wraps firmly around the joystick of his x-wing. Suddenly Finn is sitting beside him rather than beneath him, Poe’s mind closing around the previous memory like a steel trap and shutting Kylo out. 

The shock almost forces Kylo out of Poe’s head entirely. He hadn’t anticipated the pilot having any defenses at all and the force of the resistance genuinely surprises him. But the sith rides it out. Every memory with the traitor is valuable and the pounding of Poe’s heart tells him this one is valuable as well.

Finn is sweating in the seat beside him, the dark skin at his temple damp and shiny in the blooming sunlight. His hands flutter nervously around the console: flighty birds, unsure where to land. Poe can practically feel the nerves vibrating off of him.

“Just...calm down buddy,” he says, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Yeah - yeah, you’re right. I can do this.” Finn’s hands clamp decisively around the controls but the shy look he shoots Poe suggests another story.

Poe smiles reassuringly, offers: “I’ll be here the whole time,” and rests his hand on his friend’s shoulder. The new flight suit is rough beneath his palm. Fingertips brush against the soft skin peeking over the collar of Finn’s suit and electricity sparks through Poe’s entire body. Suddenly the air in the cockpit seems too thin. Poe can’t breathe.

Finn doesn’t seem to notice. Around them the x-wing hums into life and Poe is distracted for a moment by the familiar rush of adrenaline he feels each time he flies. Beside him Finn makes an odd little sound - half excitement and half fear - before easing back on the controls, propelling them smoothly into the air. They level out and the younger man turns, a huge white grin on his face, and Poe is whooping, happiness bubbling up through his chest and spilling out of his mouth, uncontrollable.

Poe whimpers as Kylo pulls out of the memory. Tears are already shining in his eyes, trembling against dark lashes - and Kylo hasn’t even started yet.

“Why is he so special to you?”

The pilot shakes his head, silent, and his brows are drawn low over his shining eyes.

Kylo leans forward until he’s a breath away from that honey-brown face. “I could take him from you,” he whispers, vicious, and Poe goes perfectly still.

“You’ll never touch him,” he grinds out between his teeth. The muscle of his jaw jumps. Kylo can practically hear the thundering of his pulse.

“I don’t need to.”

The memory is easy to bring to the front of Poe’s mind. A wide, bright smile - something the pilot has seen a hundred times. It is harder to remove it. The thing about memories is that they are almost impossible to entirely erase, no matter how powerful your skill. Kylo can cut the connections but he cannot prevent the event from having happened.

So he cuts the connections.

Poe screams as he does it, head thrashing, arms and legs straining helplessly against the restraints, fists clenched so hard that his knuckles pop. Kylo is not careful. Heavy-handed. Tearing the memory from the web of Poe’s mind with inelegant strokes. Eventually Finn’s smile is fully sheared from his head - not eliminated but inaccessible - gone just like that. Poe slumps like a puppet with his strings cut, chest heaving, sweat shining slickly on his skin. He blinks dazedly and tears spill over his cheeks and dribble down his neck into the hollow of his collarbones.

“Please,” he whispers, “please - don’t -” And his voice is broken glass.

Kylo smiles humourlessly, tilts Poe’s chin up until he can see the whites of his eyes. The hot puff of his breath washes over Ren’s skin as he pants and a little thrill races down the sith’s spine.

“I’m going to tear him from you piece by piece,” he snarls.

And he does.

There’s no particular order to the memories Kylo takes. A touch, a kiss, a laugh. He tears and rends them all from Poe’s mind. The pilot screams and moans, begs and cries weakly, grasping tight to each memory and then, once it is gone, shaking confusedly, unsure of what it is exactly that he’s lost.

And Kylo ensures that Poe knows which memory is going to be taken before he takes it. He drags the memory of Finn’s first flight to the forefront, feeling as he does so, an echo of Poe’s joy bubbling in his chest, and watches as the pilot’s eyes flash wide with fear.

“No,” he gasps and the word turns into a moan. “Please, please, you can’t.” Tears stream unabashedly down his face and he writhes against the restraints, his arm jerking as if he could reach out and stop Kylo. “Please.”

Kylo watches impassively, ignoring the hot buzz at the base of his spine as Poe whines. The memory runs through again - the traitor’s shy smile and fluttering hands - before Ren tears its connections from his mind.

There is no scream this time. Poe’s cries seem to have turned into one long moan, his head lolling against the metal chair, twitching weakly. A shiver trembles through Kylo’s body, like electricity against his skin and again he wades ruthlessly into his victim’s mind.

Their first kiss. Poe is sobbing weakly, no words anymore, just wet, formless suffering. The day Finn woke from his coma - Kylo’s mouth twists bitterly at that - and Poe whines, barely audible, throat working.

Eventually, Kylo has torn through almost all of Poe’s memories of the traitor and the pilot is hanging limp, silent and broken. Any resistance is gone now and Ren can taste salt on his tongue and hot skin beneath his touch .

“Please,” Poe whispers with a sudden surge of energy, and then those memories are gone too and his brows furrow with confusion, unsure what he was pleading for. Kylo cups his face gently and Poe lets his head rest against his gloved palm, eyes glazed, a little child lost.

“There,” Kylo says softly, “he’s gone now.” And Poe starts to cry. Kylo pulls his hand back, tucking it neatly into the folds of his cloak and, taking one last look back at the crumpled figure of Poe Dameron, sweeps out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry for the slow update, I foolishly posted this in the middle of January exams which is why it has taken so long! Also for those of you that read what I posted on the tfa meme this chapter is different from the one I posted there. Hope you enjoy :)

“Poe...Poe…” 

Someone touches his cheek. Real contact, not just in his head. Poe flinches and pain slices through his skull, shoots like electricity down his spine. He groans.

“Finn!” Blood roars in Poe’s ears and nearly drowns out the girl’s voice. Rey’s voice. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

She sounds worried. Poe wants to reassure her but his throat is so dry, like a desert, like Jakku. He tries to slur her name but only sand comes out. She moves closer - the rustle of her clothes - and someone touches his face again.

It’s not Rey. The hands are big against his face - long fingers wrapping almost the whole way round his skull - and soft. Softer than Rey’s scavenger hands have probably ever been. They feel nice. Poe lets his head hang in their makeshift cradle and doesn’t wonder who they belong to.

“Poe?” It’s the first voice again, deeper than Rey’s and not as familiar. It sounds nice - sounds like the hands feel, soft and wide and supportive. “Open your eyes buddy, we’re gonna get you out of here.”

They’re getting him out of here? 

Poe’s not even sure exactly where here is but he wants to go with them. With Rey and the hands. He forces his eyes open, blinking against the blur, and it takes more effort than it should but he manages it.

There’s a face. Dark brown eyes beneath a furrowed brow and Poe feels a jolt of recognition. A crashed plane and Poe screaming into the desert, the man lying in a bacta-tank. Poe struggles to remember but it feels as though there’s a brick wall in the way; he knows the man but he isn’t sure how.

“Wha-?” The word doesn’t come out properly. His tongue feels numb, laying in his mouth like a dead thing. The man tilts his head, as if to hear him better, and even through his confusion Poe can’t help but notice the way his jaw curves up beneath his ear, or the soft fullness of his lips. _Beautiful_ , he thinks dazedly.

“I’m not sure how long we have,” comes Rey’s anxious voice and the boy gives a little start, as if breaking out of his own daze. 

“Right,” he says and moves to fumble with the pilot’s restraints. Without the support of his hands Poe’s head lolls gracelessly against his shoulder. Breathing in the smell of oil and leather and _hey! That’s my jacket!_ Poe thinks with an unpleasant trickle of unease.

“Rey,” he manages to mumble against the material of his own jacket before the restraints snap open and send him slumping, boneless, against the stranger’s broad chest. Maybe there’s more alarm in his voice than he had intended because Rey appears at the man’s shoulder almost before Poe can finish the syllable of her name. Her face swims disconcertingly in the darkness above him, pale as the moon. A hand touches his face. It’s Rey’s: rough with callouses from years of scavenging and rough living. The other man’s hands are wrapped gently around Poe’s arms, bearing him up, although the pilot can stand on his own, of course, just as soon as he gets his legs under him.

“Rey,” he repeats although she’s standing right next to him, hovering protectively. “What’s the plan?” He’ll worry about everything else later, getting out of wherever they are right now is the priority. Take back control, force the lingering unease deep down where it belongs and get on with the mission.

She frowns. “I’m taking care of it Poe, you just need to keep up.”

Poe does manage to keep up - just about. He staggers after Rey, the oddly familiar stranger’s hand still wrapped around his upper arm. There’s something undoubtedly wrong with the whole situation that the pilot can’t shake. The corridors are empty. Where is everyone? The pressure of the boy’s hand on his arm and the pounding of his pulse in his ears and the echo of their footsteps feel familiar, almost as if he has been here before - lived this escape in another life.

He shakes and the boy’s hand tightens briefly against his bicep. Poe thinks it's meant to be comforting.

“Quick,” Rey whispers, hurrying towards one of the imperial ships. Imperial. They're at the first order base. A rush of memory surges through Poe as he's pulled inside the hold: storm troopers’ fists against his face, their boots against his chest, Kylo Ren in his head.

Suddenly he can't breathe.

“Poe-” The sudden thrum of the engine as Rey brings the ship to life and his own ragged gasps drown out the boy’s voice. Hands push him down onto the metal bench and ease his torso forward until his head is hanging between his legs, a strand of curly black hair and the dirty metal floor of the hold all he can see.

Then the boy disappears and unexplainable fear slices through Poe at his absence. _He’s just co-piloting for Rey_ Poe thinks, and then he thinks _why should I care anyway?_ and the thought sends another little thrill of unease through the pilot because he does care and he’s not sure why. 

The imperial ship hums around him as Rey and her co-pilot ease it into action. The familiar sensation, like so much else, seems strange to Poe, and maybe it’s because he’s in the hold with his head between his legs rather than in the pilot’s seat, or maybe it’s because he feels as though he’s living a different take-off from a different life where the first order hangar isn’t empty as it is now. If he strains he can almost hear the clang of blaster fire echoing off the metal hull of the ship. But that isn’t happening. Not now.

Poe shivers and tries to force the sensation away. There is no blaster fire, only the reassuring hum of the engine and the soft murmur of voices too quiet for him to make out. Despite the fact that they’re barely free from the first order base Poe can feel the adrenaline of their escape draining from his muscles and a bone-deep fatigue stealing in to take its place. In the quiet he can almost let himself be lulled into semi-consciousness. The beat of the engine seems to match with the slowing thrum of his heart and his own breath echoes in his ears as it whirs in and out of his chest, bouncing back at him from the floor beneath his face. He can feel his body tipping slowly to the side but he doesn’t have the energy to right himself and he lets his head sag against the bench. 

Eventually someone touches his shoulder and he snaps back into painful awareness.

“Hey,” it’s the boy’s face, looming over him in the semi-darkness, tight with concern, “how’re you doing?”

Poe struggles to sit up, stretching sore muscles. Pain radiates dully from the bruises on his face and ribs and his head throbs with every beat of his heart. He says “I’m fine,” quietly and smiles, feeling his lip split again with the movement. 

The boy’s face gets impossibly tighter. “No you’re not Poe, you don’t have to lie to me.” And there’s hurt in his dark eyes. Poe doesn’t know how to respond to that. He feels wrong-footed, as if the kid is expecting something from him that he doesn’t know how to give. Eventually he sighs and then a hand stretches out as if to stroke Poe’s hair, and the gesture looks absent-minded - familiar - but the pilot can’t help flinching away from it and the memory of Kylo’s hand doing the same thing only hours earlier. The hand freezes and its owner’s face creases with concern - and Poe can see hurt there too - but he drops the hand almost immediately and doesn’t move to touch him again.

A strained silence follows. Poe feels oddly guilty.

“How long was I gone?” he asks, half to break the tension and half out of real curiosity. His memory of his capture is hazy at best and there’s disconcerting gaps in his knowledge that need rectifying.

“A few days,” the guy says vaguely.

“And General Organa sent Rey and...you...to fetch me?”

The kid looks at him for a long time, eyebrows knotted together as if he’s considering something, and Poe’s beginning to feel uneasy again before he finally speaks. “Of course,” he says slowly as if he fears Poe might be suffering from a head injury, “I know the first order better than anybody and Rey has the best chance against Kylo Ren. Besides I saved you once before didn’t I?” And he grins.

“What?” Is all Poe can manage. Maybe he is suffering from a head injury because nothing about this kid seems to be making any sense and the throbbing in his head seems to only be intensifying the longer they talk. For his part the kid seems equally confused, as if Poe isn’t making any sense either.

“When we met?”

_What the hell does that mean?_ “We’ve never-”

Rey’s voice interrupts him from the cockpit. “Finn, we’re coming in to land.”

The kid - Finn, and Poe feels a phantom pain in his chest at the name - stands abruptly and half turns towards the cockpit, then hesitates. He casts an anxious glance at Poe but the pilot just tilts his head and Finn bites his lip before finally disappearing. Once he’s gone Poe let’s out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and clutches his aching head between his hands. There’s something definitely wrong here and Poe can only hope that it will all begin to make sense once they land.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys sorry for the slightly shorter chapter and for the awfully long wait. I've been super busy at uni recently but don't worry the next chapter will be up much quicker! Hope you enjoy :)

Light flashes against Poe’s retinas. He doesn’t flinch - Poe could do these medical tests in his sleep - but his head gives a dull throb in protest at the brightness. Behind the flashlight Doctor Kalonia’s stern face scrutinises him. If she’s concerned he can’t tell.

“Maybe a slight concussion,” she says eventually, “and some bruising, but physically you should make a swift recovery.”

That’s a relief. “Thanks Doc,” he says, flashing her a smile, and he’s grabbing his jacket to leave when another voice stops him.

“Are you sure?” It’s his new shadow, the boy who helped rescue him. He sounds anxious. Since they landed he hasn’t left Poe’s side and the pilot would find it sweet if it wasn’t so unnerving. 

“He seemed-” A pause. A glance in his direction. And Poe can see the boy debating whether or not to say it when he’s sitting right in front of him. He lowers his voice and Poe feels a flash of irritation prickle across his skin. “He seemed confused when we found him.” Another pause. The boy bites his lip and his voice gets even quieter. “It seemed like he wasn’t - wasn’t sure who I was.”

Something hot and queasy rolls over in Poe’s stomach. Half of him wants to complain about the kid talking about him as if he isn’t there. The other half balks at what the kid is saying. Is he meant to know who he is? Dr Kalonia purses her lips and looks at Poe from beneath a furrowed brow and Poe gets the distinct impression that, yes, he is.

“Hey, you heard what the doc said.” Poe’s impressed with how normal he sounds. “Nothing wrong with me.”

Both of them frown simultaneously. Dr Kalonia steps back towards him, examining his eyes intently, and Poe has to lean away a little, put some space between them. Sweat beads on his palms and Poe rubs them against his thighs, hoping she won’t notice.

“Is this true Poe? Have you experienced any confusion? Memory loss?” 

Has he? Poe’s mouth is dry. When he tries to reassure her his throat closes up and all he manages is a quiet, strangled sound.

“Do you remember me?” his rescuer asks on a breath. As if he’s too afraid to say it. As if he’s too afraid to hear the answer.

“Of course I do,” Poe says even though there’s only fragments of memory. Flashes of images that he doesn’t quite understand. “You’re Finn. Now can I please go so I can debrief the General?”

Finn and Kalonia share a look that Poe obviously wasn’t meant to see but neither of them stop him.

***

His shadow finds him again that evening. Poe’s tired. The debriefing had been hard going - so much of the experience was lost in a blur of hazy memories and he still isn’t sure exactly what Kylo had wanted. Eventually General Organa had dismissed him and Poe had caught sight of his two rescuers as he was leaving, hovering in the doorway, identical concerned expressions plastered on their faces. He had pushed past them without a word.

Now the boy, Finn, is standing in his doorway.

“What do you want?” Poe asks, forgetting to be polite.

“I just wanted to see how you were.” Suddenly the boy is invading Poe’s space, dark brown eyes searching his face intently. Poe isn’t sure what he sees there but his eyebrows draw together in an unhappy little V. “I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

“I’m fine,” Poe replies, “just a little tired.” And he tries to step back, to make some space between them, but the boy catches his hand and holds him still.

“I was worried about you.” Another hand comes up to stroke gently against Poe’s cheek and the pilot manages not to flinch. Frozen, all he can do is blink stupidly at his rescuer. Clearly he’s missing something here, some aspect of their relationship that would explain why the boy is so close, is touching him so fondly. Not that Poe doesn’t appreciate the view. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Finn’s voice is barely a breath, quiet and intimate, filling the space between them. Poe shudders. This feels wrong. This feels like something that Poe doesn’t understand, and he starts to pull his hand back but the boy’s fingers tighten around it. His eyes are staring intently into Poe’s and there’s something so earnest and affectionate in them that the pilot’s throat closes up and strangles the objection that was about to come out.

Then Finn is leaning down to kiss him.

His lips are soft and chaste against Poe’s, full and warm, and Poe will admit that it feels kind of nice. For a moment he just stands there. Let’s the boy kiss him. Then Finn’s hand cups Poe’s cheek and his lips move against him as if he’s about to deepen the kiss and Poe’s arm comes up automatically to push him away, shoving forcefully against the other man’s chest.

“What the hell?”

Finn stumbles back, hands up as if to prove he’s not a threat. “Poe?” There’s something nauseatingly close to fear on the boy’s face. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“What the hell?” Poe demands again. Something is very wrong here. Maybe Poe has gone crazy - he certainly feels like it. His hand is still outstretched but the boy doesn’t make another move towards him. Poe tucks it back against his chest so neither of them can see it shaking.

“What’s wrong? Did I - did I do something wrong?” Finn sounds a little frantic in a way that has Poe’s heart rocketing against his chest. It hurts. A flash of a memory? a dream? bursts to life in his head - Finn’s voice, distorted by a helmet, a gun pointed at Poe’s side: _Stay calm, stay calm._ Where did that come from?

“No I-” he falters, isn’t sure what to say and Finn’s face crumples in a way that has his chest aching all over again.

“Why?

“What?” Poe blinks stupidly.

“Why did you lie to me?” It sounds as though he should be angry but there’s only sadness in the boy’s voice. “You don’t remember me do you?”

“I do,” Poe says automatically, then immediately regrets it when he sees a flash of hope spark across Finn’s face. “I remember...bits...flashes,” he amends, “but you’re right. I don’t know who you are.”

Silence. The words seem to balloon between them, impossibly huge and thick in the stillness of the room, pressing them apart. Finn steps back as if taking a blow.

“Flashes?” he whispers and Poe nods. Can’t meet his eyes. “What does that mean? You don’t remember anything?”

Poe just shrugs. It feels as if the words, the admission, have taken any breath that he had left. He can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t look at Finn. Why is this so hard?

“Poe…”

Finally the pilot drags his eyes to the other boy’s face. He regrets it instantly. There’s so much pain, so much sadness there, and it's all for him, for Poe. Poe doesn’t even know him. This all feels too strange, too huge, to comprehend.

“Something happened, when you were captured,” Finn says slowly, carefully, and his fingers twitch as if he wants to take Poe’s hand again. “Kylo can mess with people’s memories.”

Again Poe has the sensation that he’s missing something important. The pilot remembers what he’d said when they had been rescuing Poe: _I know the First Order better than anybody_ and shudders a little, wishing he could remember who Finn was.

“Don’t worry,” Finn says and he rests a hand gently against Poe’s shoulder as if, despite everything, he can’t help but touch him. Poe doesn’t shake him off. “The General will know what to do. Luke will know what to do.”

Poe can’t find the words to reply.


End file.
